


Empty House

by Emberglade



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, One Shot, Overdose, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tom is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emberglade/pseuds/Emberglade
Summary: After Tom's suicide attempt, Matt and Edd are left alone in an empty house.





	Empty House

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Suicide mention (never says the word), shout out to a dope author (Sylvia Plath is the shit ok), crying but it's not too intense.  
> I'm dealing with some shit RN and I can't sleep so I pumped this out in like 30 minutes and IDK if I'll make a prequel or what but hey take what I give y'all I never post.  
> It's currently 12:40 AM, I haven't finished Great Expectations chapter 38 and I have to memorize 4 google doc pages before the first of March, and I'm in shock so yeah, sorry.  
> Love you all, please stay safe! Reviews are appreciated, as well as any ideas you want me to turn into little dabbles when I find the time <3

It was unexpected, not unlike winning the lottery. Except the tears weren’t happy. And there was a lot more screaming. It was scary, not unlike a rollercoaster. Except you didn’t pay to go on the ride. And the lurching in your stomach was from a different kind of adrenaline. 

But worst of all, it was empty. Maybe not the event itself, but the house. 

Edd unlocked the door to the house, pushing the chipped red paint of the door aside. The hall light was still on like they’d left it, and he could see the dropped carton of milk from where Matt had been standing in the fridge door. He walked past the kitchen to the living room, where the TV was still running old school reruns of Professor Why. It looked as if all the people in the house has suddenly vanished all at once. 

Matt followed him to the living room, where he instantly sat down on the sofa. His legs spread apart and he rested his body weight on his elbows. He hadn’t spoken since the night before. Swallowing the dryness and choking sensation in his throat, Edd went farther down the hall. Every step was heavy and laden with lead. He had to force his feet to keep walking until he reached the conjunction between their rooms. His door was closed, and Matt’s was slightly ajar, but he wasn’t going there.

Turning, the brunette pushed open his best friend’s bedroom door, squeezing his eyes shut. When he forced his eyelids to snap open, he was assaulted with the sight. 

Tom had always had a messy room; It was one of the many natural laws in the universe. Maybe it was just a reflection of his personality, maybe it was a tactic to hide things. Whatever it was, it was soothing. 

The comforter was tossed aside and up against the wall, as usual, and a pair of boxers and an empty cereal box adorned the top of the mattress, which was lacking a sheet and suspiciously stained. The “nightstand” (a cardboard box filled with Jules Verne and other classical novels) was topped with the standard smirnoff bottle, band t-shirt, and suspicious weed parifinelia.

Edd walked over to the box and picked up the book on the corner; _The Bell Jar._ Edd flips the book over, skimming the description. _Sylvia Plath, huh…_ The pages were old, yellow, and worn, and the front cover of the book appeared to have been torn off years ago. Edd mused over the idea that it was torn off in a frantic, careless move or too much jostling in a high school students bag. The novel looked slightly familiar. It wouldn’t surprise him if Tom had it a long time. 

He flipped the novel open to around the end and skimmed the paragraphs, more interested in what appeared to be years worth of scrawl in the margins. He frowned, closed the book, and set it on the box again. He felt like he was invading something secret.

Moving on, the man approached the dresser, stepping over two piles of laundry and a book to get there. The surface was littered with things, similar to the table. These things, however, were much more sinister and unwelcome. A pill bottle, perscribed and pilless, and two empty smirnoff bottles. Edd frowned and pushed the hair from his forehead up, sighing. Along with the bottles, there was a folded piece of paper. The nausea in his stomach prevented him from touching it, but he knew exactly what it was.

Turning away, he left the room, flicking off the light as he did so, and shutting the door. The click echoed through the house. Letting out a deep breath, Edd went back to the living room to check on Matt. The man was sitting where he’d left him, staring at the plush carpet underneath his tennis shoes. Edd sat on the armchair to the right of the sofa and stared at the same spot of carpet, unsure of how to go on from there.

A shuddering breath brought him back to his senses, and he looked back up to Matt. The redhead was shaking, red in the face. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were puffier than Edd had ever seen them. Usually, his friend was very vain and aware of his appearance. At even the **insinuation** of a puffy eye bag or a red face, he would be caked in face masks and cooling gel and cream, but that day everything usually in the forefront of his mind appeared to be absent.

The sight of his friend so uncharacteristically broken brought Edd down another level, and he felt his own throat close up. How were they expected to go on normally like the doctors told them to when such a crucial part of their lives was missing?

He picked up the remote on the armrest and turned of the television, pouring a heavier dose of silence throughout the house. Matt didn’t even look up.

He rose from his seat, unsure of where his legs were taking him. Edd found himself with his arms around the purple-clad man he lived with, sitting next to him on the couch.

“It’s okay,” he spoke his first few words since the two had left the hospital that morning, “He’s gonna be okay. He has to be.”

Matt sobbed harder, hands flying up to grip onto the green hoodie sleeve across his torso. After a few minutes of broken heaving, he responded. “He wanted to die, Edd. He tried to… die…” 

There was only the silence of the empty house responding.


End file.
